


sweetheart

by orphan_account



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-13
Updated: 2012-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 13:29:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>inspired by an interview with Lana Parilla:  "it was tough to wrap my head around--oh my god, that's why the Evil Queen wants to kill Snow White? because she was really trying to help her! in order to make sense of this revenge, I felt like this little girl is very selfish. so you told my mother this but then now you're so happy that you get to have me all to yourself. that's really feeding the Queen... this is my choice, not something the creators have said to me; it made sense, it was discovered in the moment with this young actress--the way that she was articulating this joy and happiness that she gets to have me as her mother in her life--that's what created this hatred for her."  so, that... plus some sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sweetheart

After Regina got married but before she killed Snow's father, in the middle of the night Snow appeared in her doorway. Snow tiptoed in, holding her breath; she was practically silent, but Regina still woke up. Regina slept apart from the king, had her own room with a bed much too big for her, also her diary and her mirror. Even in the dark Regina could see that Snow stood frozen with her hands to her sides; she bit her lip and could not articulate what she wanted from Regina. She was such a stupid girl. Regina knew when Snow did not and asked, “Do you miss your mother?”

 

“Yes, very much,” Snow said. “Sometimes she is all I can think about.”

 

“You can come in.” Regina lit a candle and held it up. Snow's face looked too soft.

 

Snow approached but stopped herself at the foot of Regina's bed. She stared at her feet. “I want to—I think I want to—”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Can I—?”

 

“Yes?” Regina said again. “I'm not a mind-reader, Snow. What is it that you want from me?”

 

The girl was so scared and so lonely, Regina didn't understand why she enjoyed forcing Snow to explain herself, to put into words what she obviously didn't want to.

 

Regina waited. It was easy to be cruel and being silent was the cruelest.

 

Finally Snow looked up, her face red, and admitted, “I want to get into your bed with you. Is that okay?”

 

Regina pushed her blankets away, made her voice less harsh.“Yes, Snow, that's okay.” She added, and this was the hardest thing, “I'm here for you, sweetheart.” The girl's body next to hers was hot, too hot. Regina wanted to tell her to go away, but of course she couldn't.

 

*

 

When Snow's father died, Snow was almost an adult, certainly old enough to handle grief on her own. Still Regina found Snow in the dining hall with a plate of untouched food in front of her, staring blankly in front of her—her hands shaking, holding her breath and looking to Regina like a desperate little girl all over again. Regina scolded Snow for not eating, insisting she finish half at least half of her meal, saying that only selfish girls ignored their food when the rest of the kingdom would give up their first born for such a meal. Snow seemed suddenly startled by Regina's words. “I am so sorry,” she said to Regina.

 

It was Snow's voice pleading, high-pitched, nearing hysterics, and these specific words— _I am so sorry_ —that Regina tried to remember in her bed that night. Exactly how it sounded. Regina's pillows were velvet and black and too nice to crush against her chest like she was doing now.

 

The mirror revealed Snow White in her bedroom, her body curled up in a tiny ball. Why did Regina think so much of uncurling her, forcing her to lay on her back, telling her to look up, look up at Regina? What would happen then?

 

After a few nights of this, when fantasy or memory was not enough, Regina got out of bed and put on a robe over her nightgown. She hurried down the corridor, which was longer than she had ever remembered, and stopped outside of Snow's bedroom. She hesitated like Snow had hesitated. But Snow still woke up. “Mother?” she mumbled, barely conscious and confused.

 

 

*

 

Regina liked seeing Mary Margaret behind bars, and she liked even more seeing Mary Margaret cry behind bars. After she revealed to Mary Margaret that she knew she hadn't killed Katherine, she left Mary Margaret to process the realization alone in the dark. But later that night, as Henry slept, all of Storybrooke slept, Regina returned with one of her keys.

 

She opened the cell, where Mary Margaret sat on the floor, her knees pulled against her chest. She wasn't sleeping either. Regina crouched down so she was at eye-level with Mary Margaret, so Mary Margaret could feel Regina's breath in her face. Regina ran her hand through Mary Margaret's hair, brushing her bangs back. “You must be so confused,” she whispered.

 

Mary Margaret shrugged, resigned. She seemed too exhausted to cry.

 

“What were you like as a little girl?” Regina asked.

 

She struggled to clear her memory. “I don't—I don't know the answer to that. Why are you asking me this?”

 

“You don't know, but I know,” Regina said. “And you were pathetic. It's no wonder your mother left you.”

 

Mary Margaret stood suddenly, angry and shocked. Regina stood too, rising as quickly as Mary Margaret, shoving her back against the bars. “Don't try to get away from me,” she said. “Who do you think you're kidding? Don't you realize I know?”

 

“You know what?”

 

Regina unbuttoned Mary Margaret's pants and pushed her hand inside her underwear. “You're soaked,” she said flatly, unsurprised and disgusted. “I know how sick you are. Don't you remember how you begged me to be your mother? Don't you remember the first time I touched you, you came right away?”

 

Mary Margaret gasped.

 

“You wanted to have me,” Regina said. “That was all you thought about. So here I am. Don't you want me?” She shoved her fingers inside, three then four. “Tell me you want me all to yourself. Don't act like such a good little cunt.”

 

 

Mary Margret didn't cry then. For the first time Regina watched as Mary Margaret's face hardened. For the first time Mary Margaret didn't crumble in front of Regina. She gritted her teeth and said, without embarrassment, “Regina, I want you.” She grabbed onto Regina's hand, pushed it further inside of her. Regina almost lost her balanced from the abrupt force of the movement. She held onto one of the bars to anchor herself and kept fucking with her other hand. She stared at Mary Margaret's neck, her collarbone. Her skin was still so pale; it turned red so easily. Regina felt a wave of familiarity and maybe loss. It had been a while since she had done this to Mary Margaret.

 

Regina thought she hated it. Mary Margaret was silent as she climaxed, shuddering, gripping the back of Regina's neck.  Her hands were always so small, even now, always grabbed on so tightly, like selfish girls do. Maybe a long time ago, so long ago neither of them remembered, Regina had belonged to Mary Margaret.  


End file.
